The other night, Sean and I joined a few friends for dinner at a soft opening for a new Thai restaurant that opened a few blocks from our house. It was very good except for a few glitches that still need to be worked out – which is the beauty of a soft opening. We will definitely be going back, especially since it is a short walk from our house. Love this neighborhood!
At dinner, I was telling our friends that I had a dream the night before that involved snakes. Anyone who knows me knows that I am immensely scared of snakes. To the point where I can’t even touch a page in a book that has a picture of a snake on it. I have to walk with my eyes on the ground through certain parts of the jungle and desert dome at the zoo to avoid the sheer terror of seeing a slithery demon. I fell in love with a house before we found this one and we almost bought it until we came across a snake in the basement the last time we did a walk through. A wee bit overboard you say? Hell yes it is, I know that, but I can’t control it at all. I never used to be so scared of snakes. I grew up on an acreage and we were notorious for finding 8 ft long giant bull snakes in the middle of summer. Perhaps city life softened me a bit? Who knows, all I know is keep those damn things far, far away from me.
Anyways – back to my dream. In this dream, I was doing some gardening in the yard, came across a snake and instantly went into labor. Laugh all you want, but the possibility of this actually happening is probably a lot more true than you would think. That would literally be my worst nightmare coming true. I would be scarred for life. Talk about a joyous occasion being completely massacred by a phobia. Plus, I’m pretty sure having terrors, the sweats and wanting to puke from fear are not conducive to an effective natural labor plan. We joked about it for a while and talked about how we hadn’t seen many snakes around the past few years. Well, wouldn’t you know it… we go to leave yesterday and what is slithering into the giant planter box on our front porch but a disgustingly awful snake.
I did not go into labor, obviously. But I did squeal like a tiny girl and ran away twitching and wanting to puke while I waited for Sean to unlock the car door so I could jump into the enclosed safety of the car. I’m pretty sure the only reason why I didn’t scream is because I couldn’t catch my breath enough to actually scream, hence the squeal. Want to know the best part? Sean squealed just as much as I did and ran to the car about as fast as he could after fumbling with his keys to lock the front door. Aren’t we a pair? Our children are doomed. Now everywhere I go, inside the house and out, I am constantly scanning the ground in front of me for both a snake and a very quick escape route.
Moral of the story? Snakes are the devil. And I will not being doing any sort of yard work until after this baby comes for fear that my dream will actually come true. Sorry Sean, but I’m pulling out the pregnancy pass on this one.